


I Think We’re Alone Now

by Likerealpeopledo, rockinhamburger



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Cameos!, David Rose Vampire Slayer, Dialogue-Only, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27276232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likerealpeopledo/pseuds/Likerealpeopledo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinhamburger/pseuds/rockinhamburger
Summary: No adverbs were harmed in the making of this fic.“Is this...David, is this a rhinestone on the handle?”“Ahem. Yes. But I haven’t bedazzled my stake since I was twenty-two.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 23
Kudos: 82





	I Think We’re Alone Now

“Ew, what is that? Stevie, help.”

“David, you’re holding a wooden stake. And _that_ is a mound of dirt. Don’t worry, I think you’ll still win.”

“Would we call it winning if my dry cleaning bill is more than the cost of human lives?”

“Glad your priorities are in order. And I don’t understand why you’re always so surprised by the mess.”

“You’re mistaking surprise for disgust. It’s always disgusting, Stevie.”

“Uh huh. So, how long exactly are we supposed to just wait out here in the dark for some poor sap to rise from the dead? Shouldn’t there be an alarm that sounds? Or, or, a bat signal?”

“Very funny. But time frames vary wildly. It’s highly inconvenient.”

“Okay, but I’m still not sure why _I’m_ being inconvenienced when you’re the one slayer to rule the earth. Or whatever.”

“Let’s not throw it in my face. Does this mean you’re trying to abandon me to wait here alone in a graveyard like a pervert?”

“Takes one to—”

“I don’t think that phrase works in this situation, Stevie. Where are you go—Stevie! _Fuck._ Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck!”

***

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Slayer. Your mother sure does know how to put on a show. Oh Dannn—”

“Ew, Carl, not on my Rick Owens… Wow, truly inspired last words. Always so creative! … Okay, I think we’re done here. Can I go to sleep?”

“Kind of late to be visiting a graveyard, isn’t it?”

“Oh my _god_! Who sneaks up on someone in a _graveyard_?” 

“There isn’t generally anyone here for me to sneak up on at this hour.”

“Um. I was just visiting…” 

“Carl Currie?”

“ _Yes_. Yes, Carl Currie, a very good friend of mine.”

“Funny. Carl Currie was also a very good friend of mine and I’ve never met you.”

“We were … secret friends.”

“Ah. And is that why you needed to pay your respects to Carl Currie, your very good _secret_ friend at two o’clock in the morning?”

“I don’t love what you’re insinuating. Are there visiting hours listed somewhere that I missed?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So what? Are you the graveyard police? Because you’re dressed more like the vacuum cleaner salesman Stevie had to ask to leave the motel last week.”

“Maybe I do sell vacuums, undercover. _Vroom_. Doesn’t explain you spending your evening here.”

“I am not _spending my evening here_.”

“Oh cool so you’re going to leave? Stop loitering near empty graves covered in suspicious piles of dust?”

“Mhm. Loitering. But no, Officer, I definitely won’t be going anywhere. Mama Oprah was very clear on her directive never to travel to a second location with a stranger. And what are _you_ doing here, exactly?”

“Visiting my good friend Carl. But, you know, it seems like Carl’s body’s gone missing. Strange.”

“Huh. Carl’s family probably moved him to the other cemetery for his, uh, eternal rest.”

“Moved him? Themselves?”

“Mhm. They’re—funeral directors. Lots of practice moving bodies. _Anyway_ , the other cemetery is much more...spacious.”

“You mean this town has one stoplight but two cemeteries?”

“We don’t like to talk about the disproportionate death rate. Makes people think we were built on a hellmouth or something.”

“...or something, yes.”

“Well! I am going to go. Not because I’m going anywhere with you, but because clearly—”

“—Carl isn’t here.”

“Carl isn’t here.”

“Hmm, well, if he’s not here, I guess I, too, should be going.”

“You think?”

“Did you want me to give you a head start? So we don’t end up at the same location and all? With Oprah?”

“...yes. That would be...Yes. So then I guess I will see you around, because—”

“We’ll both be going to visit Carl at the other cemetary eventually. Maybe we’ll run into each other there.”

“Hmm, indeed. Okay, ciao! … Ciao. I said Ciao to that person.”

“You did and I have to say, it’s only like the fourth weirdest thing someone has said to me today.”

“Oh my god. How the hell do you keep sneaking up on me like that? And what happened to my head start?!”

“I guess the whole _ciao_ as both hello and goodbye threw me. I’m Patrick, by the way.”

“David Ro. ...My ...Holy fuck, it’s like I’m shaking hands with a bear trap.”

“It’s all that vacuum selling. Very gruelling work.”

“I see. Listen, I’m going this way, and I’d like it if you could go the other way. It will make it much less awkward for me to have to lose you if you do.”

“Lose me? I’m not _following_ you, David. We just both happen to be going in the same direction.”

“That’s exactly what the grifter in the Seychelles said right before he snatched my Hermes wallet. Not falling for that one again.”

“Ah, well. Grifters in the Seychelles are famous for snatching wallets. Rookie mistake. Should’ve played better man-to-man defense.” 

“I don’t know what that means. I’m not a pugilist.”

“…”

“Look, the point is, I don’t trust strangers who loiter in graveyards. Also, I did get the wallet back; it was worth more than anything inside it, so.”

“Uh huh. Well, you have just walked with me for several blocks in the same direction, so are you sure you’re not a rookie?”

“ _Ugh._ Well, this is where we part ways for good, thank you so much. Goodbye.”

“David?”

“ _Oh my god!_ Seriously? Why are you still following me?”

“You dropped this… your…”

“...Oh! My—my… um. I’m building a really little fence?” 

“Mmm. Yes, you do seem very at one with nature. I could definitely buy you as a landscaper.”

“….Yes, well. I—can I have that back please?”

“What, your tiny fence post?”

“Yes, my—. Huh. Um. Huh. Could—could you just...stand right here for a second?”

“Right where? Here?”

“No, just there. Stand there.”

“Here?”

“No. Just. Yes, there.”

“This is a super fun game, David. Tell me again why we are playing it?”

“Because you’re there and I’m here but—”

“Uh-oh.”

“I’m _here_ and you _aren’t_ there. In the window. Our... _my_ reflection—it’s just my reflection.” 

“Okay, I know what this looks like…”

“What this _looks_ like?!”

“Fine, poor choice of words. But I just…”

“You don’t _just_ anything! What it _looks_ like is you’re a vampire and you’re holding my stake hostage.”

“Okay, that makes sense. I’ll give it back to you if you promise not to dust me immediately.”

“I absolutely do not promise that. Why would I promise that?”

“Well, you’re obviously the slayer, so maybe we could make a deal? I give you valuable vampire intel along with the careful return of your weapon, and when I do so, you won’t drive it directly into my approximate vampire heart area?”

“...Okay, _maybe_. But just so you know, if you try anything funny, I am familiar with the martial arts.”

“Oh cool I used to hang out with Bruce Lee. He was awesome. Very zen. He used to say that I taught him everything he knew.”

“Of course. Well, Ronnie taught me...you know what, never mind. What happens in slayer school stays in slayer school.”

“Oh so Ronnie Lee is your watcher?”

“How do you know what a watcher is? And how do you know Ronnie?”

“You’re not the first slayer I’ve met, David. Just the first one I haven’t, um…”

“Okay, you’re not allowed to look bashful when you talk about killing slayers.”

“Well I’m not _proud_ of it. A vampire’s got to do what a vampire’s got to do, I guess.”

“Like returning Mr. Pointy to his rightful owner?”

“Mr. Pointy? Really?”

“I was 16 when I got him! Sue me!”

“Is this...David, is this a rhinestone on the handle?”

“Ahem. Yes. But I haven’t bedazzled my stake since I was twenty-two.”

“And how old are we?”

“...”

“Nevermind. Let’s go over the terms of our contract, for the sake of good business practice. I will give you … Mr. Pointy and at least one vampire secret that is not in Ronnie Lee’s handbook and you will allow me to walk away still mostly corporeal.”

“Arms, legs, the whole vacuum cleaner salesman vibe. Although if that shirt bit the dust, I don’t think anyone would miss it.”

“Excuse me, this is a very nice shirt.”

“Okay, well, that braided belt wasn’t even fashionable in the nineties when you bought it.”

“I took it from...you know what, never mind. I’ve seen a lot of trends come and go in two hundred years.”

“You’re two hundred years old and _this_ is the wardrobe you’ve compiled?”

“First of all, it is called stealth, David. It is key that I _blend in._ If I’d been walking around in an 'I'm With Stupid' t-shirt, I doubt I would have made it quite this far in life. Or, uh, death. Technically."

"Wait. You really think that was the wardrobe choice I wish you would have made?"

“...”

“Just as I suspected.”

“Well, what about you, huh? You’ve been hunting vampires since you were sixteen and this is the stake you’re carrying? I’m disappointed, David. I’m offended, actually. I feel like I should start writing letters on your behalf.”

"It's not the wood in the stake but how you use it…and stop staring at my...stake."

“I wasn’t staring. I was discerning its ilk.”

“I’ll have you know, that stake was tailor-made in rich mahogany, and I used it to take out the most dangerous vampire in western Canada, so.”

"Vampires in western Canada are notoriously soft, David. You could have used a mesquite chip and had the same result."

“Soft? Soft?! It was a very HARD vampire, actually... and that’s a thing I just said to you.”

"Well. Judging by the state of Mr. Pointy here, the vampires were, at most, semi-firm.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised no one’s staked you in two hundred years; you’re very snippy.”

“Maybe being snippy is my secret.”

“Oh it’s not a secret.”

“Huh. Well, I guess we’ll have to get a cup of coffee and see.”

***

“This is very impressive. I can’t believe Twyla just leaves a key to the Cafe under the mat for anyone to use.”

“Well, not just _anyone_.”

“Oh yes, the very important slayer must have access to fuel at all times. I get it. Here you go. One caramel macchiato skim, two sweeteners, and a sprinkle of cocoa powder. Are you sure caffeine is a good idea at this hour?”

“Thank you for the coffee. You can hold the judgement.”

“No can do; this coffee comes _heaping_ with judgement.”

“I knew there’d be a catch.”

***

“Bob Ross is a vampire!? My god. It’s always the ones you least suspect.”

“You think that’s shocking? Imagine how I felt when I found out Dolly Parton was a watcher. P.S. she is also immortal.”

“... Of course she is. That’s probably the least surprising thing you’ve said tonight.”

***

“Hmmm. Okay, easiest fight as a slayer.”

“The Vampire King of Portland.”

“ _You_ slayed Benny? Thanks for that, he was insufferable and he was cheating on his taxes.”

“Benny!? Wow, no wonder he went by a douchey moniker instead.”

“That happens more often than you might think. Jack the Ripper was named Aaron, which didn’t quite have the terrifying effect he was going for.”

“This better not count as your vampire secret. I already know how unimpressive most of you are.”

“I won’t argue with you there. We’re not all like that, though.”

“You’re not really selling your case here, Mr. Mid-Range Denim.”

“Again with my clothes? Functionality over style, David. You don’t find it hard to move in those...skin tight pants?”

“These pants do not hinder my movement in any way.”

“Well, I’m just saying, you’d be fighting a lot bigger threats than _Benny_ if you weren’t getting yanked to the ground by the baggy material of an oversized sweater.”

“Excuse me, this is Neil Barrett, thank you, and he actually dresses a lot of slayers. But, um, I probably shouldn’t have told you that, so please don’t kill Neil Barrett or I’ll have to spend the rest of my days hunting you down.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Mostly because I have no idea who that is.”

“Thank you. Hey, you never answered your own question. Who was your easiest fight?” 

“Dracula. He was like the vampire version of the Night of Living Dead zombies. He walked really really slowly.”

***

“Vampires can’t drive!”

“I’ve had my license for 114 years. I think you’re thinking of virgins. Virgins can’t drive.”

“Aaaaand he’s seen _Clueless._ ”

“Paul Rudd, man. Talk about immortal.”

***

“You met Oscar Wilde?!”

“Yeah. A little too pretentious for my taste.”

"Or would you say timeless?"

"No, I was pretty much over him minute one. He talked a lot about muffins. Like, a LOT.”

“I have heard that the sweet tooth is the first thing to go, you know, after the humanity. _Tsk._ But you and Oscar must have had more to discuss than baked goods.”

"Mmm. Some. But I found him a bit over-earnest, you know? Like everything was always _so_ important."

"You? With the Man in the Moon eyes? Found someone too earnest?"

"Listen, there was only room for one of us, and I'd rather it be me."

“Makes perfect sense.”

***

“So how many pairs of colored contact lenses do you just keep on hand then?”

***

“Alexis was the hardest. I don’t know how many close calls there were, like with the shapeshifter in Thailand or when Diplo turned out to be a wendigo. She’s not as adventurous as she used to be, but I still check my phone for SOS texts. I always worry my family’s going to be targeted because I’m the slayer.”

“That’s rough, David. But it’s nice that you’re close now. I still miss my parents and they died one hundred and thirty years ago. I wish I still had a picture of them. Weren’t many cameras around back then.”

“What were they like?”

“They were nice, good people. Funny. I wonder sometimes how they’d feel about having a vampire for a son.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, you seem like a nice vampire?”

“That is what the medal of honour said.”

***

“So, heartbreak?”

“A werewolf, a witch, and a demon, at a bar.”

“That sounds like a set up to a bad joke.”

“What it lacked in funny, it didn’t even make up for in fun.”

“I did notice there wasn’t a vampire in that bar of yours.”

“Mhmm. Yes. Well, occupational hazard.”

“Fair enough.” 

“But, I mean, I wouldn’t rule it out. I’ve just never dated anyone I thought was...nice.”

“Wow, David, that’s—”

“Pathetic? Yeah, I know.”

“No. I wasn’t going to say—it’s just...too bad, because you seem like a really good person.”

***

“Hey, the sun is about to come up.”

“Ah, looks like.”

“Should we… get moving? So you can head to whatever coffin you sleep in?”

“It’s a very nice apartment in a very nice hamlet, where I happen to sleep upside down, thanks. But, uh, I still haven’t told you that vampire secret.”

“Trust me, I want to hear it, but I’m pretty sure sunlight is not your friend. On several levels.”

“No, it’s not. But maybe I’m going to melt one way or the other, y’know?”

“Well, that is very existential of you at this late hour.”

“I was thinking it was more metaphorical actually. Because—”

“Why, so you can—oh. Okay, yes, that would be—”

[...]

“Mmm, I guess two hundred years of practice would make you a good kisser.”

“Well, forty years seems pretty good, too.”

“... How _dare_ you. I take that kiss back. Forty!”

“If I apologize, can I kiss you again?”

“Depends on how good the apology is.” [...] “Okay, that was pretty good. Maybe one more apology, for insurance?”

[...]

“Thank you, David.”

“For…?”

“I was afraid I would leave here without doing that.”

“Well, I’m afraid you might leave here without doing it again.”

[...]

“Wait. Don’t you still owe me a vampire secret?”

“Vampire—Right. Um, the kiss was the secret. Or the secret was the kiss. And I have to say it’s a good thing I don’t have blood in my veins because there is no telling where it would be rushing right now.”

“Oh!”

“Sorry, I get kind of...here, you can have Mr. Pointy back.”

“No. I mean, yes, I definitely want Mr. Pointy back, thank you, but I also...do you have any other secrets you’d like to share?”

“You mean like how I slept with a security blanket until I was a hundred-and-six?”

“No like secrets being code for—wait, you did what?”

“Being a new vampire was a complicated time, okay? Anyway. You’ve got your stake back so do your worst.”

“I was kind of hoping that the secret was that you wanted to kiss me again.”

“Oh. Well. Huh.” 

“...”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that I didn’t want more kissing! Yes definitely please, all the kissing. Especially if it can be under your completely practical yet fashionably roomy Neil Barrett sweater since the sun is [...] mmm—okay, now we’re talking.”

“I’ll pull down the shade because I think we’re going to be here awhile.”

“Thank you, David.”

“[...] Never met such a polite vampire.”

“That’s because you must never have met Al Gore.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been with him and Tipper on that Peruvian ayahuasca retreat.”

“Okay but say it five times fast.”

“Peruvian ayahuasca Peruvian ayahuasca Per...ugh.”

[...]

“Okay, now it was worth it.”

***

“Well, this is me.”

“I still can’t get over vampires driving.”

“We’re here, we drive, get used to it, David.”

“No one says that. So, how come you haven’t tried to kill me yet? From the sounds of it, you’ve killed your share of slayers. You could add this one to your list. Or was that your plan? Lull me into complacency with your tongue so it’s easier to strike?”

“Is that what you think I would do? Maybe I just swore off killing slayers since they always have so much iron in their blood, and it’s just not for me.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Turnabout is fair play, David. And I notice you haven’t tried to kill me yet, either.”

“...I’ve never met a vampire who wore his nonexistent soul so blatantly on his boring sleeve.”

"Oh, no, that's blood from my last meal—okay, you got me.”

“Got you?”

“So...I may have an existent soul?”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Well, it is if you accuse the right Vampire King of Portland of tax evasion. Anyway, I have mine back, have had for about thirty years now? And I have to say, blood banks are a great invention. And deer and squirrels aren’t bad either.”

“Ew!”

“I can eat humans again if you want. It just comes with unbearable, agonizing remorse. So it’s awesome for all of us. Like a big party where everyone cries.”

“Wow. So when you were loitering in that graveyard, it wasn’t to scope out unsuspecting victims.”

“No. Just… keeping an eye out. Making sure Carl didn’t hurt anybody. But it’s a good thing I was loitering last night. I’m glad I met you, David.”

“That’s a really lovely thing to say.”

“And I’m so glad I met you, Patrick, because it’s really made my night, and possibly tomorrow night, and the night after that.”

“Hmm. A bold claim.”

“Well, I should go. But… can we meet up again?”

“We can meet whenever you’d like. Just, not during the day, obviously. Actually, the location will have to be negotiated since I have Patrol to think about, but. And honestly, there’s not really anywhere open late in this town, so we might have to be—I mean. Yes. That would be. Nice.”

[...]

“Good night, David.”

“Good night, Patrick.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Distractivate and musictoyourlips for the beta work on this!
> 
> This was a fun little experiment we did on dialogue-only fics and we have learned a) it’s harder than we thought and b) all kissing should be implied through sexy brackets [...] from here on out. What a time saver!
> 
> Title from a Tiffany (which was originally a Tommy James and the Shondells) song that is now stuck in our heads.
> 
> Thanks for reading. LRPD and RH


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